Only Light, Only Love
by Compulsive Bowler
Summary: AU: Roger never came back from Santa Fe, and Mark spends Christmas alone. But he receives a special present that brings him back. Pairing if you squint and tilt your head.


A/N: AU: What if Roger never came back to NYC? What if Mimi died and Mark had no physical memory of Roger? What if Christmas for the remaining bohemians was awful? Every man is guilty of all the good he didn't do, so R&R!

_**Darkness. Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Hatred cannot drive out hatred.**_

The loft was filled with darkness. Everywhere else in the city was lit up with the most ornate decorations, the shiniest tinsel, and the tackiest sweaters. Christmas time. Mark didn't mind Christmas, despite his own religion, because everyone seemed happier. Everyone came closer together, there was less fighting, violence and it was a time for happiness. For Mark, this was definitely not Christmas.

He stepped out of the freezing loft to find that the outside atmosphere was the exact same temperature. The cold, thrashing winds slapped Mark's cheek with a stinging intensity that broke through the numb shell of his nerves. He felt it. He hated it.

Mark didn't smoke. Mark hated the idea of smoking anything, so it seemed hypocritical to him that pot was illegal but tobacco was as in as ever. He made an exception tonight. His worn loafers scuffed the steel flooring of the fire escape and he turned slowly to return to the dark abyss of the loft. The shadows seemed to engulf him in a perpetual vortex of hatred. He faced the door that he had left shut. It hadn't been opened since October 31. It was time to open the gate again.

The filthy knob jiggled at the slightest touch and practically fell out when Mark tried to open it. The rotten wood surrounding it enclosed on the brown tinted rim before the door swung open. Mark walked over to the empty end -table and pulled out an emergency Marlboro.

Upon returning outside he pulled a grimy metal lighter out of his tattered back pocket and struck it. Once the cigarette lit, he took one deep drag before shuddering at the taste and coughing himself crazy. This was why Mark didn't smoke.

To get his revenge, Mark stormed back into the macabre loft and into the empty room that stood next to his.

"Fuck you!" Mark screamed into the dark room. "You ruin everything! I gave it all up for you, I helped you, I pushed you, hell I even trusted you! Go die in a god damn hole and spare me your presence!" Mark was livid at Roger for leaving now, but he had spiraled into a deep depression for the better part of November. He had lost his best friend, his companion, and his soul.

Mark was the backbone of the two, this was obvious. What wasn't so obvious was that Roger was Mark's heart. Many believed that Mark concealed his thoughts and emotions from the light of day, but in reality, Roger just spoke for him. In a way, Mark's heart was hanging from his sleeve. But when you let yourself open, you're going to get hurt.

About three years ago, for his birthday, Collins got Mark a copy of Jean Jacques Rousseau's Discourse on the Origin of Inequality just for his theory that unless you show emotion, you're not truly living. When Mark opened it, he thanked Collins graciously as the polite person he typically was. Later that night when he read the dreaded section, he ran into Collins' room, calmly said, "You are an immature idiot," walked outside and screamed. It gave Collins a good laugh.

When Roger left, it killed Mark. He couldn't eat, sleep, or even work. He just sat there, the empty carcass of what used to be a human. At the beginning of December, Mark began to feel again. His codependence dissipated and Mark grew angry at Roger. His last words were "I'll call, I hate the fall," but Mark never received a call or any sign that his friend was even alive. Of course, Mark wasn't stupid, he didn't actually expect Roger to call, but it hurt nonetheless.

Now when Mark was angry, he ate. Roger would have been proud that Mark wasn't starving anymore. As a matter of fact, Mark managed to gain 6 pounds since he began eating comfort food. Right now he needed some food. He trudged over to the refrigerator and pulled out a baby yellow Styrofoam container with a note on it.

_We figured you'd like to try some ribs Marky. Consider it an early Christmas present._

_-Mo & Jo_

Mark was intrigued by the sound of some ribs. Truth be told, he had never eaten ribs. Until recently the idea of eating food named after the actual parts of the animal was repulsive. He didn't care anymore. He pulled out the little tabs from the designated slots and the container sprung open. The aroma of the spicy BBQ sauce penetrated the air despite the cold temperature. He gently pulled one from the rack and sunk his teeth in to the tender flesh. Once he finished and licked the bone clean, he turned around to see it.

The package glared at him. A plain brown shipping box with a white note attached to it. To: Mark From: Roger. Mark couldn't bring himself to open it. He didn't care if Christmas was a holiday for forgiveness and compassion, he didn't want to forgive the hopeless rocker.

The package arrived earlier that day, but Mark simply threw it on the counter and stormed off. He couldn't avoid it any longer. The caring side of Mark wondered if Roger needed help. He grabbed his key from his pocket, sat down with the box and slit the packing taped along the top. The anticipation built as he ripped the two opposing, tapped flaps open and threw the packing peanuts to the ground with wild abandon. Inside, the box contained a small, rectangular package wrapped in nutcracker wrapping paper.

Mark gently tore the paper from the present to reveal a picture frame containing a photo of Roger in Santa Fe, playing on a stage. He looked happy. The blue spot lights hit his face accenting his defined jawline. He let his hair go natural, back to the light brown color, and he also let it grow long. Above all, he was smiling. Enclosed was a note from him.

Mark,

I know I didn't call and I'm sorry. But I found exactly what I was looking for here. I ran away from the bad and along the way, I found the good. I'll miss you, but I'm not coming back. Don't wait up.

-Roger

Mark wanted to be angry with him for not calling, for never coming back, for leaving in the first place, but he couldn't.

_**Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Only light, only love.**_


End file.
